A Game of Cards
by Phegan
Summary: It all started with a Game of Cards...
1. The Bet

A Game of Cards  
  
All characters and thematic elements belong to Bandai Entertainment and Sunrise, Inc.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
There hadn't been reports of a bounty for weeks. It seemed like the ISSP were finally starting to do their jobs. Which was really murder on Spike's stomach. It wasn't even growling anymore. A sigh came from Faye's direction of the couch. She was playing some kind of very complicated solitaire. Her chin was resting on her hand. She seemed to have come to an impasse.  
  
"Why don't you cheat?" Spike asked drily, rooting around his pocket for a cigarette.  
  
"It's no fun cheating against yourself," Faye muttered. Her eyes narrowed and she flipped over a card, which led to a sweep of movement and another impasse. "Damn," she sighed.  
  
"I bet you a woolong I could beat you."  
  
She glared at him for a moment, not even bothering to designate the paltry sum with an answer. Then she went back to the solitaire game.  
  
"All right, all right, a billion woolongs."  
  
She laughed at this. "Neither of us have a billions woolongs."  
  
"Yeah, I know. Consider it incentive for the loser to put some bell peppers and beef on this ship."  
  
"Well, all right," she said, picking up the cards in an expert scoop. She put her fingers at either side of the cards and separated them out from each other. All the cards turned one way were in one of her hands; all the cards facing the opposite direction were in her other hand. "As long as you're going to somehow get the money you're bound to lose."  
  
"Well, I'm not playing with that trick deck," he said. "And if I catch you cheating, you automatically lose and owe me the billion woolongs."  
  
"Hey!" she protested, cards in mid-shuffle, "That's not fair!"  
  
Spike frowned as his took a puff of his cigarette. "Woman, you have got some funny definition of fair."  
  
She grinned. "It's a really smart definition, as far as I'm concerned."  
  
Spike stood. "I'll get a deck to use."  
  
"Fine!" she shouted after his retreating figure. "But I'm dealing!"  
  
As he entered his room, Spike smirked. Faye was entertaining, he had to give her that. She was easy to read through, though, which was why he supposed she'd gotten herself into as much trouble as she had. She desperately wanted to be a survivalist, an egoist, only out for herself. She'd always turn back from saving herself at the last minute, for a friend. He'd seen her do it when she thought no one else was looking. A good heart that kept beating through the storm, while his own had shut its eyes on the day he pretended to die. Spike searched on his cluttered desk for the pack of cards and came upon them next to a Spanish-English dictionary. He brought the pack to his lips for luck, thinking of how he hadn't thought about Julia in a while, and felt the old familiar pang in the chest you get when someone doesn't love you quite enough. He shook his head, a went back into the living space, where Faye was waiting like a predator. He threw the pack to her.  
  
"Your deal," he said. She looked like she was going to eat the deck. He supposed she was thinking of it as a meal ticket by now. He didn't really care whether he was going to win or lose. He just needed something to do.  
  
"This," Faye sighed happily as she went through the deck, "is what I live for."  
  
"Is it a Romany thing?"  
  
Faye dealt the first hand. "Maybe."  
  
Spike picked up his hand. "What are we playing?"  
  
"Canasta. Deuces are wild, red threes count for fifty, and two canastas to go out."  
  
"Canasta?" Spike asked incredulously.  
  
"What? You think all I do is play poker?"  
  
As much of a game of skill as canasta was, it was also largely a game of luck. Especially when the people playing were more concerned with racking up astronomical points than going out early to rob points from the other. Spike and Faye were also viciously competitive about the pile. The more you added to the pile to keep the other from getting it, the more valuables landed on top of it. Faye went out the first round, but Spike had double her points because he'd taken the pile. Strategically, Faye went out early the second round, noticing that Spike tended to horde his cards. He stopped this practice the third round, and went out before Faye, although he didn't manage to rob her of many points. By the fourth round both of them had 4050 points, just on the brink of winning the game. Both could get over the 5000 point hurdle, but the one with more points would win. So the two returned to hording and baiting the pile. Faye had all four red threes and two mottled canastas. On a whim, she exposed enough of her cards for another canasta and put down an eight for a straight canasta. It was a good thing her instincts had cut in, because Spike went out the next round.  
  
She sat back and smiled like a cat who'd discovered a very fat canary.  
  
"How many points?" Spike asked.  
  
"6340," she replied.  
  
Spike started to grin, which wasn't a really good sign. "I've got 6350," he said.  
  
She pounced on him and grabbed his cards from his hand. She counted them quickly once, again, a third time, her curses growing astronomically. Then she counted her own hand. She sat back again.  
  
"Well?" Spike asked.  
  
"Oh, you know perfectly well you won," she muttered.  
  
He laughed and she glared at him. "Looks like you owe me a billion woolongs."  
  
Faye growled under her breath, but maintained. "When is Big Shot on?" 


	2. The Bounty

A Game of Cards  
  
All characters and thematic elements belong to Bandai Entertainment and Sunrise, Inc.  
  
Thanks a bunch for all the reviews. I'm working more on another fic, Endgame, but hopefully this will tide you over for a while.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
"I wonder if they're sleeping together," Faye pondered as Punch and Judy began their standard Big Shot intro.  
  
"I wonder how she keeps that jacket on," Spike said.  
  
"Double-stick tape," Faye replied, as though it were common knowledge.  
  
"You'd know."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Judy's squeaky voice interrupted. "We've got a reeeeeal big catch for you this week, pardners." The picture of a hulking man with a snake tattoed snaking around his skull and onto his face replaced Judy on the screen.  
  
Punch interrupted her. "Percy Flowers is a renegade from the ISSP. He's the reason y'all haven't been seeing any action for the past couple of weeks. After an standout first month at the ISSP, he's taken off with bounty information and a whole bunch of those prohibited mushrooms. The ISSP is offering five billion woolongs for this guy."  
  
Both Spike and Faye's eyes widened at this information, and then said unanimously, "Percy Flowers?"  
  
"Well," Faye drawled, "I guess you'd really have to prove your masculinity with a name like that. I'll be off to get information from Edward now."  
  
"Five billion woolongs AND information for more bounties," Spike mused, and then shot after Faye's figure. He grabbed her by the elbow. "There's no way I'm letting you screw this one up. I'm going with you."  
  
"No way, I lost that card game fair and square!"  
  
"Well, if we both catch him, and split the money between all of us, Jet, Ed, and Ein, then you can still pay me the billion you owe me."  
  
"What?! Then I won't have anything! And since when did we count Ein in?" Just then, Ein walked by. He gave Faye a disdainful look and walked away, nose up in the air. Faye ignored him. "No, way, Spike, this bounty's all mine." Spike pushed past her and started to run down the hall to Ed's room. Faye looked around quickly and prayed for inspiration. Thanking the gods, she picked up Jet's calligraphy set and threw it down the hall. She never had thrown like a girl. It hit Spike squarely on the head, and a moment later he was sprawled on the floor. Sighing in relief, Faye stepped over his body and knocked on Ed's door. The girl didn't answer, but Faye could hear the snores coming from inside. She opened the door, and a moment later was doused in cold water. "Ed!" Faye screamed.  
  
Ed, sprawled on the bed next to her tomato, opened one eye to survey Faye, dripping and standing next to the bucket Ed had rigged to fall on whoever opened the door uninvited. "Ed needs her privacy," Ed said sleepily.  
  
"You could always lock the door," Faye huffed. Her temper evaporated as she remembered the bounty. "Never mind. I just want you to get me information on Percy Flowers."  
  
* * *  
  
Faye, showered and dry and thankful her clothes were made from the same material as the old Earth raincoats, settled into the Redtail. She powered the vessel up, opened the hangar door, and headed in the direction of Neptune. It seemed Percy had been keeping company with the bounties he had information on. Faye almost regretted leaving Spike behind, but until good old greed calmed her nerves. After all, how loyal could a bunch of criminals be to the man who'd turned in so many of their friends? 


	3. The Brawl

All characters and thematic elements property of Bandai Entertainment and Sunrise Inc.  
  
Musings: Why do fanfic writers always feel the need to dress Faye differently, or grow her hair, or make her really whiney and put her in situations she could totally get out of on the show but can't in fic? Just for continuity purposes, this takes place before the show ended. We'll just pretend that whole last bit didn't happen. Although I loved the way the show ended. And if you like this fic, read my other one, Endgame. It's gotten like two reviews. Anywho, enjoy! Oh yeah, this may be the last PG-13 chapter, so check out the R-rated section if you don't see this for a while.  
  
A Game of Cards  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Faye slid her sunglasses on before vacating the Redtail. She adjusted her bracelets in case of trouble and surveyed the scene before her. Krestil seemed like just her sort of town. There were floating neon signs and holographic strippers everywhere. According to Ed, Mr. Flowers had been visiting a notorious poker hall called Trigger Joe's every evening. She walked down Titan Avenue and smirked into the sunset. It was like these bounty heads wanted to be caught by Poker Alice.  
  
She ambled towards the streets, checking out the Neptunian population. She guessed she just might have landed on the wrong side of town. There were shady characters everywhere. Half of them were packing in the open. Faye was smarter than that. Her guns were hidden. It just added to the overall effect. Her body wasn't just bait. Men always seemed to mistake a sexual ideal for innocence, or at least incompetence. Maybe that last one was because of her gender. Even Spike hadn't seemed to figure out she could hold her own against him. She spotted Trigger Joe's behind a roasted monkey palace. She wrinkled her nose as she walked past it but couldn't help admitting that even monkey meat smelled good when you were as hungry as she was. Her stomach growled, and her resolve strengthened. She brushed into Trigger Joe's like she owned it, and propped herself against the door frame. That's right, she thought to herself as the male gazes all turned to her. She checked out the room through the dark cast of her sunglasses, and spotted Percy Flowers in the corner with the meanest looking crew of poker players in the room. She wondered if they knew his name was Percy Flowers. Shrugging, she sidled over to the crew. By the time she reached the table, they were all gaping at her. Men. So predictable.  
  
"Mind if I join the hand?" she drawled.  
  
Percy spoke, the snake tattoed on his head puckering as he frowned. "Bit late in the game, Miss Lady."  
  
"That's all right, Mr. Man," Faye replied easily. She drew her gun and placed it solidly against his temple. "I don't play fair myself." She heard the familiar click of guns taking off their safety all around her. Percy's lips curled back in a smile. Faye glared at the thugs with their guns drawn. "What's the matter with you people?" she growled. "Don't you know this guy's got information on all of you? He used to work for the ISSP, you know."  
  
"They know, Miss Lady," Percy grinned. "They paid me to steal the information." Faye glanced back at him, taking in the situation. After all, she didn't want a room full of precious bounty heads dead or injured. Suddenly, Percy stood. Faye stepped back, keeping one gun level at his head and drawing another for to take care of the thugs in the room. Percy didn't draw a gun. He drew a knife, and before she knew it, had drawn a line through her top. Faye looked down at the hanging flaps of her yellow halter top. Good thing she was wearing a bra. "I don't play fair neither." His face was no more than an inch away, and he had bad breath. Faye kicked him in the groin before he could do anything else, reading his move for a stalling tactic. She ducked under the table as the shots started to ring out. She tipped the table over, took a quick glance at the room. The thugs were complete idiots, not moving. Didn't they know the really good shots cultivated a photographic memory? And she was a really good shot. She had the guns out of their hands in twelve shots. Percy, recovering from the pain she's inflicted on his groin, grabbed Faye by the front of her bra and pushed her harshly against the wall. She didn't struggle. She still had both guns. Unfortunately, Percy knew something about pressure points, and after cutting off the circulation in her arms as he held them against the wall, she'd lost one gun and was hanging onto the other with a pinky. She grunted. It was looking about time to use her bracelets when she saw a silhouetted figure in the doorway.  
  
"You've gotta be kidding me," she groaned, as Spike closed in behind the thugs going for the guns Faye had shot out of their hands.  
  
"I don't kid, Miss Lady," Percy whispered. He drew her towards him and smacked her against the wall. Her skull hit the brick and she started to see a seeping red. But then, she'd always been hardheaded, in more ways than one. She shook it off, and he smacked her into the wall again.  
  
"Ow!" she complained. "That's really annoying!" She drew her legs up and used them as a lever to distance him from herself. Her circulation back, she grasped the gun she'd managed to hold onto and moved away from him. Already five gunmen had guns in their hands. That's when Spike started in on them. He moved through the crowd as though he'd already predicted all the possibilities of their movement. He avoided every blow and connected with every head. Faye took care of one man who started to aim for him, and then again disabled the gunholders, shooting their hands in the process for good measure. Faye and Spike moved towards each other and fought their way into a back to back holding position.  
  
"Color coordinated all the way through, aren't you Faye?" Spike said as he drew his gun and fired at a chandelier. It fell down and pinned three of the more menacing thugs.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Faye caught the barkeep going for a shotgun and shot him in the shoulder.  
  
"You bra matches your bandana."  
  
"Oh," Faye replied, blushing furiously. She'd forgotten about that. She finished off the last standing thug, taking him out with a tranquilizer bullet.  
  
Percy picked himself up from the pile of fallen thugs. He stood for a moment, and then opened up his vest to reveal a motherlode of dynamite big enough to fill out the potbelly Faye and Spike now realized was fake. Spike was reminded, irrationally, of the pregnant belly of Asimov's lady in Tijuana.  
  
"I know exactly what you want," Percy said. "And if I'm going down, I'm taking all of it with me."  
  
"Oh, shut up," Faye said, and shot him with another tranquilizer dart. He fell slowly, clutched at the control panel on his heart, and failed to activate it.  
  
"Goddamn it Faye you nearly screwed to whole thing up!" Spike yelled.  
  
"Goddamn it Spike I brought the whole thing together!"  
  
"Whatever, that bounty's at least half mine."  
  
"Are you kidding? I took out Percy Flowers. You can have half of the rest of them but that five billion is mine."  
  
"You would've been a goner if I hadn't showed up!" His eye was starting to twitch. Not a good sign.  
  
Faye drew a breath and tried to calm herself. "I was about to use my bracelet."  
  
"OK, fine , you would have lost the bounty then!" He was starting to look really distracted. Faye wondered if this may be the beginning of a nervous breakdown.  
  
"I took down Percy Flowers, that bounty is mine."  
  
"It's never worked that way," Spike said. He wasn't looking her in the eye. He was staring below that. He shook his head and gave an aggravated yell. "I can't argue with your tits hanging in my face." He took of his jacket and extended it to her, refusing to look at her. "Fine, whatever, you win. Just take my jacket." If Faye wasn't mistaken, his cheeks were a little rosy.  
  
She chuckled and slid his jacket on. "Well, well, Mr. Spiegal. Looks like I win this round."  
  
"You and your tits."  
  
She started to blush. "Oh, shut up."  
  
"I guess," Spike said, lighting up a cigarette, "When all's said and done, I did see you in your underwear. So, in a way, I win, because I had you at a disadvantage."  
  
"I wouldn't put it like that," Faye said, her entire face heating up now. She drew Spike's jacket around her tighter.  
  
"And you know," Spike continued pensively, "they're really bouncy. I always thought they were fake, but-"  
  
"Oh, that's it," Faye muttered and smacked him. His cigarette fell out of his mouth and clattered to the floor. Faye stooped down to grab it and placed it in her mouth. "Let's go and collect our bounty, huh?"  
  
Spike put a hand to his cheek and watched her leave. Then he followed her. 


	4. The Reward

Al characters and thematic elements belong to Sunrise, Inc. and Bandai Entertainment.  
  
A Game of Cards  
  
Chapter 4  
  
The ISSP secretary cleared her throat and adjusted her pink-rimmed glasses. "So. that's five billion woolongs for Mr. Flowers. three million for Gy Corona, two and a half million for Jorge Bandito, one million for Kyle Smuck, eight million two thousand for Pit Gorgonzola."  
  
Spike and Faye exchanged glances. "Um, could you get to the point? There were, like, forty people we brought in."  
  
"Oh, yes. Of course. Let's see. It all comes to a grand total of, um." The silence as she tabulated their future richness was excruciating. "fifteen and a half billion, two hundred woolongs and, um. forty cents." The secretary glanced up. Both Spike and Faye were standing stock still. Spike was nodding like and autistic child following a pendulum. Then Faye gave out a great big high pitched shriek, which seemed to snap him out of it. They clasped each other like teenage cheerleaders, laughing and yelling and dancing in a circle. Then they realized they were hugging and quickly withdrew from each other.  
  
"I wonder how Jet's gonna take this?" Spike mused.  
  
* * *  
  
"I didn't even know you kids were gone," Jet said, flipping over some mushrooms in his wok. "I thought you were going to miss supper."  
  
"Jet, did you even hear us?" Faye asked. "We just got a bounty. Throw those mushrooms out and let's go out to dinner."  
  
"Dinner! Winner! Spinner!" Ed shouted and started to pirouette until she became little more than a blur.  
  
"You know, when you spend money as fast as you do," Jet started to lecture, "We end up hungry. We'll think about food after we take care of the utility bills."  
  
"Jet, we got fifteen and a half billion two hundred woolongs and forty cents."  
  
The mushrooms ceased their rhythmic flipping. "Can you say that again? I feel like I just had an auditory hallucination."  
  
Spike spoke up. "Fifteen and a half billion two hundred woolongs and forty cents." Ed stopped spinning and stared at him. "But five billion of it is mine. Me and Faye had a bet and I won."  
  
Faye crossed her arms. "Well? Are we going to go out to eat?"  
  
With the same precision as choreographed swimmers, Jet and Ed tilted slowly over until they hit the floor in a dead faint. Spike lit a cigarette. "Well, Jet I understand, but Ed?"  
  
"She's been wanting a scike board," Faye explained.  
  
"What the hell is a scike board?"  
  
"It's a combination of a scooter, a bike, and a snowboard. You push with one foot, pedal with the other. Works on any surface, really. Come on, Spike, get with the times! All the kids have one."  
  
"You're the one who's three hundred years old."  
  
"Which goes to show you how outdated you are." She took out her own pack of cigarettes and lit one.  
  
Spike shrugged. "So should we go to Chez Food?"  
  
"You read my mind."  
  
* * *  
  
Chez Food's menu was one hundred and fifteen pages long, not including the alcohol list, which was twenty pages, not including the cocktail list, which was fifty pages long. It specialized in all the old earth dishes, exotic planetary dishes, and house mixes. It was hands down the best restaurant in the galaxy and boasted the prices you would expect from the best restaurant in the galaxy. As soon as the Bebop crew entered, galactic yuppie heads swiveled over in disapproval. Ein was made to wait outside, with Jet promising to bring leftovers.  
  
The waitress seated them in the darkest corner she could find, which happened to be the furthest spot from the exit in case of a dine and ditch. After much disapproving looks the manager came over and had the balls to ask for a deposit. Spike shrugged and forked over his card. Then the waitress came with Venetian water, waited for them to decide upon their orders, and returned to take their orders, which she would have to do five times in the case of most of the Bebop crew, who were poring over the menus like cram school students over a cheat sheet. Not Spike, though. Five years ago, he had heard of a Titanian fish called a Gohai, which was supposed to taste sort of like lobster, if lobster were to come from Heaven. At Chez Food they marinated it in coriander, basil, and a Martian "herb", really a tasty paste made from a certain kind of dust. It was the most expensive item on the menu, and he had decided on it as soon as Faye handed over the five billion woolongs. Faye, after a half an hour of debating, decided on a rabbit and mango dish that was served over a salad of Venetian flowers. Ed went for a moonplant soup, most of which ended up on the front of her shirt, and a fish salad. Jet ordered an everything quesedilla, which offered a selection of catfish, steak, Uranian bird, and seven types of beans to stuff in it along with five types of salsa and the creamiest sour cream to grace Mars. Once the food came, the crew enjoyed a silence like they never had, eating happily for the first time since they had all come together. As soon as Ed was done she ran off with her card to get her scike board. Jet ordered a horse dish for Ein and leaned back with a cigar in his mouth while Spike and Faye went through the drink menu. Spike started to go through the different vodkas and Faye started to go through the cocktails. Once the horse dish arrived Jet left the table, saying something about going off to have the best post-meal bath and sleep of his short life.  
  
Faye leaned back and drained her Rainblaze Glory. By now she's forgotten all the contents, but they sure did taste nice. "I don't know what he's thinking," she murmured. "I'm not going to lose one second living it up."  
  
"You should cool it before gambling all your money away."  
  
"I don't gamble my money away," she said lazily. "I invest with high interest."  
  
"How many drinks have you had?"  
  
"Half as many as I plan to order," she replied, raising her hand to get the waitress's attention. "You know, there's a snooker bar in the back. I bet you five billion woolongs I could beat you."  
  
Spike laughed heartily, not half as drunk as she seemed to be. " You're on," he promised.  
  
"Like a light," she agreed.  
  
* * *  
  
He should have known the shrew was faking. She kept the drunk act up right up until he made his first shot, breaking the red triangle without getting a ball in. Then her eyes lit up and steeled themselves, mapping out the geometry of the table. It occurred to Spike that he had never played pool with the woman, let alone snooker. It occurred to him that good shots were usually good at either game, and that she was a good shot, and maybe better than him. Finally, it occurred to him that he was drunk. Perhaps it was this initial panic that ruined the game. Following shots through into the pocket was a heavily psychic practice no matter how good you were. Nerves always resulted in bouncing off the ends of pockets and near misses. He had a string of these, and wasn't close to winning. When Faye bent down to take her last, triumphant shot, he had to go to the bar for another vodka. He couldn't bear to look. He winced as he heard the solid thump and roll of the ball going in. He turned to her, leaning against the snooker table with her arms crossed and a smug look on her face. He flipped her off and drained his vodka.  
  
A lanky arm dropped onto his shoulder. "Oh, don't get bent out of shape, Fuzzy. They have massage parlors her. My treat."  
  
"I don't need you charity," he mumbled. Faye shrugged. "Fine with me." She started to walk away.  
  
"Wait!" he called after her. She turned to him and he ran his hand through his hair and gritted his teeth in a forced grin. "I guess I'll take charity, since I would have won that game if I weren't drunk."  
  
She folded her arms and started to tap her foot.  
  
"Oh, come on, Faye! You have five billion woolongs. At least let me have my fantasies of superiority."  
  
"Well, if you put it that way."  
  
* * *  
  
Faye smiled dizzily as she emerged from her massage session. "I don't think I can move. But in a good way."  
  
Spike was sprawled out on one of the couches, having emerged moments earlier. Both of them were wearing terry cloth robes. "I don't think I can smoke. But in a good way."  
  
"Is the Bebop still docked?" she asked.  
  
Spike groaned. "I don't want to walk all the way across town."  
  
"Me neither."  
  
"We have rooms for rent here," the receptionist piped up helpfully.  
  
Spike and Faye exchanged looks and shrugged. "Do they have bars in them?"  
  
"Of course," the receptionist replied.  
  
"Why not?" Spike asked.  
  
* * *  
  
"Ha ha!" Faye shrieked. She was actually drunk now. No calculated faking. "You're asshole again!" But she still managed to cheat like a little hellion when she was drunk. More than usual, if it was possible.  
  
"I don't think we can really play asshole with two people," Spike said for the third time.  
  
"It's a classic drinking game," Faye replied for the third time. The floor in the hotel room was so thick and soft they were sprawled across it in their terrycloth robes. A fire was crackling next to them. Faye rolled over to take another marshmallow from the pile they had ordered from room service. She stuck it on the edge of an elongated corkscrew and plunged it into the fire.  
  
"That's not how you do it!" Spike protested.  
  
"Do you have to have input on everything?" Faye asked.  
  
"Do you have to do everything wrong?" he asked, and wrested the corkscrew from her grip.  
  
"You sound like my mom," she replied and jerked the corkscrew back from him. The marshmallow slid down the spokes and threatened to drop. Spike stuck his hand out to catch it at the last minute and it exploded into his hand. He looked at the mess in disgust and wiped it off on Faye's terrycloth robe. "Hey!" she yelled and stood in indignation. Spike leaned back and peered up at her.  
  
"Your underwear is showing."  
  
Faye picked up the tray of marshmallows and dumped it on him. It didn't have much impact, since they just bounced off him. He laughed at this, so she grabbed a handful and tried to smash them into his face. He managed to eat most of them and shove a few into her robe. Faye started giggling.  
  
"What?" Spike asked.  
  
Faye took the tray the marshmallows had been on and turned it to reveal his reflection. She had managed to squish some marshmallow into his hair.  
  
"So? You have them in your robe. And it's lumpy." Which made her laugh more. She knelt down and knocked into the champagne bottle, tipping it over onto Spike. "Christ on a bun!" Spike screamed and jumped up, rubbing at his robe with his bare hands. Faye laughed harder. He disengaged from his robe and slung it over the radiator to dry it. When he turned back, Faye was rolling on the floor, giggling, marshmallows occasionally falling from her robe. "What now?"  
  
Faye was laughing so hard she couldn't talk, so she pointed at his boxers, which were covered in butterflies.  
  
"Oh, shut up," he said and stalked into the bathroom. A minute later Faye heard the water turn on. Five minutes later she heard a garbled yell.  
  
Her fit of giggles over, she asked, "What is it?"  
  
"No towels!" He shouted from behind the door.  
  
Faye sighed. She might be sober enough to play cards but she wasn't sure she could operate a phone. She picked it up and pressed different combinations of buttons until she reached the front desk. She told them to bring towels to their room. Since she was standing, she decided to open her robe and empty it of the marshmallows. The door to the bathroom opened, Spike muttering about being to drunk to care, his boxers wet and plastered to him. "Wait!" Faye shrieked, which made him look up. She closed her robe, but he was still looking at her, like she'd betrayed him or something.  
  
"You weren't wearing a bra this time," Spike said.  
  
Faye flopped down on the bed, suddenly wanting a separate room. One more comment from him and she'd go order one, too. Spike was still standing in the same position. "Oh, go on," she said.  
  
She waited for the torture, reached to the table for her cigarettes. She wished he'd put his robe on.  
  
"You're a damn beautiful woman," Spike said. 


	5. The Truth

All characters and thematic elements property of Bandai Entertainment and Sunrise, Inc.  
  
Well, I'm not such a jerk that I'll leave you at a cliffhanger like that for long. So here it is.  
  
A Game of Cards  
  
Part 5  
  
"I mean," Spike said, while an almost unconscious part of his brain told him he was veering into dangerous territory, "You're a shrew, but you're a beautiful shrew. But you know it. But you're more beautiful that I would have thought. I mean, I always pictured you would be that kind of arrogant, hard kind of beautiful. But you're soft. Like a flower."  
  
Faye was reminded of a time when she was in high school, flat and with braces and an ugly complex that made it incomprehensible that anyone could find her attractive. She had had an enormous crush on someone she knew would never like her. But, inexplicably, he had come up to her on Valentine's Day and given her a rose. It had sparked a feeling similar to the one she had now, a hammer of unexpected pleasure that she almost couldn't stand. "Fuck you," she whispered, because it might be some cruel drunk joke, like it had been with her high school crush.  
  
"Sorry," he said, and turned around to search for his cigarettes. He found his pack and took a cigarette out, and pushed away his feeling of discomfort with its first drag. When he turned back Faye was standing next to him, her face inches away from the final destination of his own. Her eyes flickered away from his to his mouth and back up again. His own lids fell halfway down in anticipation, and with this slight movement their gazes locked and they looked at each other for a long time with a corresponding wish to spend as long as possible anticipating a move they would surely regret in the morning, when practicalities like living together and being unable to stand each other would surface. Faye sighed and brought her hand up to cup his jaw and dropped it back to the level of her hips almost immediately. Spike ran his fingers down the length of it.  
  
He broke their gaze and took a drag of his cigarette, brought his free hand to the back of her head and drew her in to kiss him. Her lips fell apart underneath the crush of his own, and he exhaled. She quickly accepted the smoke, and breaking the kiss, let it out. She kissed his neck, unable to believe how good the soap she smelled every day in the shower could smell. He groaned and she nearly swooned. Instead she dragged her lips across his skin, still shower wet, while he pushed her robe from her shoulders and pulled her body against his. She shivered against the warm line of his erection, and they kissed again, exchanging tongues, and breath, and the rhythm of bodies exchanging flesh-spoken words. His hands ran across her body, drawing the energy of her reaction in a warm caress like a river smoothing over an unmapped land. They pulled of the last of the cloth that hid them from each other, and she let a sigh slip that almost gained the solidity of a voice, and he smiled as he kissed her forehead, and she imagined her third eye opening and wondered if it had at some point, she was so content. She felt like a different person to him, soft and warm. She felt like he imagined he would to someone who really knew him. They twined around each other like a braid with two parts and curved to the floor until they were prone. They breathed in the smell of each other's flesh and let their limbs argue them into a stupor of bliss.  
  
There was a point where Faye glanced at the sharp line of his jaw, his slitted eye above looking somewhere angled away from her, and she couldn't believe she was looking at him, someone whose place she had already determined as being far away from her. But they were together. He cupped her breast and let a stream of kisses flow from her collarbone to her belly, and then below that, and she felt like the invisible pressure of water was building from inside her. Before it could be spent he returned, and they kissed again for a long time, and their bodies were still for a while. Then she drew her leg up past his thigh, and he settled into the crevice between her thighs. His penis pressed against her, not in her yet. He moved the plane of his shaft gently along the surface of her vagina, and her hand circled around his arm and clasped his hand. They shifted against each other, the rhythm they'd worked out more subtle than before, and he buried his face between her breast and then lifted it, his entire body moving upwards like a cresting wave as he entered her, and she washed back against him. And no one would take this away. No one could call it anything but the truth, no matter how obscured it might become after this. After this, they might play like this had been a game, but for now it wasn't, and Faye's hand fluttered to the back of Spike's thigh and pulled it towards her until she was levered on the incline of his leg, moving her body upwards to meet his and back. In a swift movement she brought her leg over and turned and sat up so that her back was pressed against his stomach. She did it without parting from him and the motion, spiraling over his penis, made him gasp. He buried his mouth against the incline of her shoulder and they moved against each other, every inch possible pressing against each other, until the sensation built to breaking.  
  
And once they finished the sentence, and once they had reached the inevitable conclusion of this flesh-and-blood syllogism, once they took the fork on the road on which you can't turn back, they wrapped their arms around each other and slept, waiting for the consequences. 


End file.
